


I See Trouble (On the Way)

by Kawaiicoyote



Category: Riddick (2013), The Chronicles of Riddick Series, The Fast and the Furious (2001)
Genre: Crossover Pairings, Drunkenness, First Meetings, M/M, Riddick/Fast and furious crossover au, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-17 02:07:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1369966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kawaiicoyote/pseuds/Kawaiicoyote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At first the people and beings around him keep their distance, eyeing him like cautious animals. He doesn’t even care and starts to sway and move to the music that leaves him feeling hot and filthy, moves in a way that he bets will draw eyes onto him not out of fear, but out of curiosity and want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I See Trouble (On the Way)

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first attempt at either of the fandoms. I recently got back into both and am loving it. And then a group of new friends from the fandoms started talking about THIS particular pairing and I couldn't help myself.
> 
> The particular song that I had going on loop that inspired this little tidbit is: Bad Moon Rising (the Mourning Ritual version)   
> Just in case anyone was curious about how the music playing through sounded.
> 
> I just write for fun and in no way make any profit from this

There’s a noticeable shift in the atmosphere when Brain steps through the doors of the dilapidated building that passes as a club on this planet.  Even shrouded in shadows he sticks out like a sore thumb. His pale skin and washed goldenhair alone screams that he doesn’t belong among the different human and alien races. But what really sets him apart is the plainness of his clothes, black shirt, black pants and sturdy black boots. Everything about his clothes screams authority and marks him as someone that the rest of the dwellers need to steer clear from.  It doesn’t bother him much as he slinks through the throng of people to the dirty but very well stocked bar. Money is money on any somewhat civilized planet, and the barkeep acknowledges him as soon as he flips some currency onto the grimy surface in front of him. A few moments later the first of many unidentifiable but tolerable drinks is place in front of him and he absently knocks them back as they come, but with the alcohol starting to sing through his veins Brian can’t really bring himself to care yet.

With the newest drink in hand that looks like black tar water and smells like rubbing alcohol but it’s warm on lips and burns a trail of fire straight down to his stomach, - he turns on the stool and leans back against the bar and letting his eyes sweep the room. He’s not looking for anyone in particular at the moment, just letting his gaze drift lazily along as it goes in and out of focus.

Brian takes a big mouthful of what he wants to describe as battery acid, winces and licks his lips, and belatedly notices people moving in what can only be described as vulgar chaotic synchronization. It looks like clothed sex out on the floor, not the kind of dancing he’s really accustomed to witnessing, but then again he isn’t used to witnessing much dancing.

The music catches his attention then, almost like he’s listening to it through water. But then slowly it wraps itself along his mind and slithers down his spine and makes him shiver despite the beads of sweat starting to coat his skin in the humid heat of the building. It’s a slow languid beat with vocals as rough as gravel that leave Brain wanting more, of what he’s not sure.

Despite his uncertainty about what it is, he finds himself leaving his half full glass on the bar behind him, and then sliding off his stool, tripping over his feet only a little before they’re leading him into the very heart of the slowly gyrating masses.

At first the people and beings around him keep their distance, eyeing him like cautious animals. He doesn’t even care and starts to sway and move to the music that leaves him feeling hot and filthy, moves in a way that he bets will draw eyes onto him not out of fear, but out of curiosity and want. Slowly but surely the crowd envelopes him and consumes him with sweat slicked touches that never seem to end.

Brain is passed from one partner to the next, heated provocative touches some with nails that score along the exposed skin of his neck and nape and arms, that make him wince, but he allows to happen. It sets something alight in him and he finds himself not wanting to stop.

But all too soon he does stop, a pair of large hands firmly gripping his hips and holding him in place. His protests all but die on his lips when the hands slide from his slender hips, leaving one arm to slide around his shoulders, the other around his waist; both pulling him back closely to a wall of solid heat that radiates along his back and leaves his stomach clenching with want.

Brain blinks his glassy eyes open and starts to turn his head only to pause when the rumble of a deep growl vibrates against his chest. It makes him shiver, a bone deep sensation, and his eyelids slide to half-mast.

“You’re a little far from home Blondie,” the man says right next to his ear, the voice of this man sounding as menacing as thunder. It makes his toes curl and flex in his boots.

Brian licks his dry lips, nods and responds with a raspy, “Yeah, so?”

He feels the deep chuckle up against his back more than he hears it. It’s the only warning before thick callous roughened fingers slide into his hair grip the curls at the nape of his neck, and jerk his head back in one fluid motion. Brian is surprised but doesn’t pull away, going limp and relaxed instead of tensing. With his throat bared to this faceless unnamed man he should feel vulnerable and scared, but instead he swallows thickly despite the difficulty with his neck being bowed back and feels the thrill of excitement sing through him making his pulse beat out a staccato rhythm of anticipation.  

“Far from home can mean all kinds of trouble for a pretty bitch like you,” the man growls right against the shell of his ear, surprisingly soft lips brushing the tender skin there.

That does make him tense and pull away slightly.

“I’m no bitch,” Brian snaps, proud of himself that he sounds something close to sober. The fingers in his hair twist roughly, making pain prickle along Brian’s scalp as the strands are pulled taught, and suddenly fingers grasp at his hip digging in with enough force he knows there will be the bloom of fresh bruises later.

He feels the smooth edge of the man’s nose slide along the soft skin behind his ear and he takes a deep breath. Brain can feel his chest expand against his back and then the hot breeze of his breath. “Smells like a bitch,” the deep voice starts then stops only for Brain to tense as a hot moist touch of tongue slides to lap up a bead of sweat at the nape of his neck, “Tastes like a bitch.” He stops again to slip the hand gripping at Brain’s hip downwards to cup the front of his pants where Brian’s half interested dick gives a definite twitch of interest as he starts to speak again, “Feels like a bitch, _is_ a bitch ripe for the taking.”

Brian scowls and jerks in the tight hold on him, ignores the acute pain of his hair being pulled the limits and wretches his head to the side to get a look at the asshole he let get his hands on him and freezes.

His wide blue eyes meet the intense gaze that could only be described as liquid silver. At first Brain thinks it’s some kind of illusion or trick of the light in the low light of the club, but his eyes wander over the rest of the man that the eyes belong to.

Dangerous and predatory, those are the things that come to mind; muscled to the point that he could easily break Brain in half without even trying, though something about him screams that he could disappear in broad daylight despite his stature.

Full, dry lips pull back into a taunting smile set into a face that’s tan is natural from birth but darkened and weathered from the elements.

“You recognize just who I am.” It isn’t a question but Brain nods anyway.

“Riddick,” he rasps and that earns him a chuckle as the grip around him falls away. “Your reputation follows you; be hard not to know who you are.” Brian licks his lips absently and can’t help but let his eyes roam over the solid mass of Furyan before him.

Riddick gives a wry laugh, all of the thrumming tension they had between them a moment before snapping like spun glassthough Brain’s pulse has yet to slow from its erratic cadence, before taking a step away from him back into the shadows then another. Brain absently takes one step forward for each one of his back until he’s given a small shake of the head.

“Go back home Blondie,” he says taking another step back with a dark grin and Brain scowls, taking another step forward just out of spite.

“What happened to being ripe for the taking?” falls out of Brian’s mouth before he can filter himself. Those intense glowing eye in front of him shift and focus sharply on Brain, and suddenly he feels the lost heat from before returning.

But Riddick shakes his head and turns away, calling back over his should “Next time, _O’Connor,_ ” and then the shadows and bodies envelope him and he’s gone.

It takes a moment for Brian’s mind to catch up with what Riddick called to him.

Next time, _O’connor._

Brian had never told him his name. It leaves him reeling and confused and slightly worried about what exactly that means for him.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments would be much appreciated.


End file.
